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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29196543">The palms of your hands</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/DandelionDictates/pseuds/DandelionDictates'>DandelionDictates</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Ambiguous/Open Ending, Comfort No Hurt, Fluff, George Needs a Hug, How Do I Tag, Light Angst, Living Together, M/M, No Smut, Pre-Slash, Touch-Starved, Touch-Starved GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 04:22:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,659</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29196543</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/DandelionDictates/pseuds/DandelionDictates</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Quarantine was hard on everyone, especially those who don't know how to ask for what they need.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>458</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The palms of your hands</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was originally supposed to be a vent and then became... this so if the structure is off or if it's hard to follow, I'm sorry. I hope you enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Living with Dream and Sapnap didn’t take as long to adjust to as George had initially expected. It wasn’t too dissimilar from living with his family back in England, give or take some weather and pest alterations. He had his own space, his own responsibilities and he would be quick to admit that it was rather nice to be living with his two closest friends, regardless of whether or not he missed his parents.</p>
<p>After such confusing and stressful changes during the global pandemic, this easy transition was greatly appreciated. His friend’s had helped him settle in quickly and before long, George’s things mingled harmoniously with theirs as if they’d always been there.</p>
<p>But just as their attitudes to one another, their comfort in their living space and George’s sense of home hadn’t changed, neither had a harshly lingering issue he’d been left with.</p>
<p>He thought all would be well, Sapnap seemed an awfully tactile person from snippets of what he’d said in the past and George was almost certain that Dream would be the same, due to his dog-like disposition. He was wrong on all accounts. They’d both greeted him with a tight hug at the airport and that was it - from there, all contact George had received was accidental.</p>
<p>Now, George didn’t expect to be coddled and snuggled at every moment like some fanfics that they’d read and giggled about depicted but he’d been expecting at least something to help quell the incessant itch beneath his skin. But no, there were no arms thrown across the backs of couches for George to inconspicuously sit against; no ruffling off his hair that he’d pretend to hate and then lean into; no friendly pats on the shoulder; no guiding hands on his back; nothing at all.</p>
<p>Before the pandemic, George harboured lingering flashes of being held in tan arms, against a green covered chest where he could press his cheek to the smooth material of a dumb looking, printed smiley face. But that was all they were; flashes. Easily ignored and inconsequential. They’d fade soon enough, George would pursue someone new and his friendship with a certain faceless Floridian would stay wonderfully intact.</p>
<p>But then the pandemic hit and George was holed up at home with his parents and anyone who held his social media - not a lot of chance to shift his focus.</p>
<p>And so flashes became visions and these visions ventured from holding his sleeping mind to haunting his wakeful one too. But that was okay, George knew how to handle infatuation and how to keep it from his professional life - he and they were co-workers alongside being close friends after all.</p>
<p>It only really became an issue when these visions became blurry and generalised - from wanting to be held by him to wanting to just be held at all. He’d first thought that the infatuation had passed and that he was simply lonely but that notion had quickly passed some long, sleepless night.</p>
<p>What he was getting at, in so many words, was given a name several weeks into moving in with his friends - an awfully long amount of time to be suffering a cause without a name but George had always been bad with words.</p>
<p>And it was this inability to dictate that which he thought that kept his issue festering in the foundation of his very being. George spoke with his body - with the conduction of his hands and the twist of his brow - but there was no way to say something like this in any amount of movements.</p>
<p>It came to a head one lonely night, when the clock displayed a measly two hours upon its face. A perk of living with two who shared the same profession and habits as you was sharing the same sleep schedule, meaning that George wasn’t at all alone when he stumbled into the kitchen for any kind of solstice to his hollow chest.</p>
<p>He’d met Sapnap in the doorway, looking equally dishevelled but not nearly half as aching. It had been the very fact that it was Sapnap and not Dream that led to George deciding (quick and impulsive and nothing like how he likes to be) to reach for what his skin wept for. Because, with it being Sapnap, it felt so much less dangerous to request.</p>
<p>“You okay, man?” Sapnap had asked, glass in hand and worry in heart.</p>
<p>“Nick,” George had breathed, simply for the sake of saying it. For the sake of reminding him who the voice belonged to. This is Nick he’s talking to and it’s going to be okay.</p>
<p>“George, you’re shaking.” George watched as Sapnap discarded his glass in favour of reaching out hovering hands. They didn’t quite meet George’s arms but he could feel the warmth radiate from them regardless. “What’s wrong?”</p>
<p>“Can I have a hug?” The words were tumbling past his lips before he gave them permission to, drifting into the space between them and down to the floor. George looked at the cold tiles as if he intended to pick the words back up and push them into his chest again like some sinful secret.</p>
<p>“Of course.” There had been a hesitance but it wasn’t rooted in judgement or disgust, more surprise.</p>
<p>And then Nick’s arms were curling around him, hands pressing flat against George’s back and George felt himself tremble and choke as he carefully reciprocated. His mind was torn between pressing closer into Sapnap’s chest and arching back into his hands. Luckily, the choice was taken from him as Sapnap gently pulled him in tighter, rubbing up and down George’s back. George decidedly ignored the pained noise that echoed in his throat.</p>
<p>“Is this all you needed?” George was almost ashamed in his answer, softly nodding his head before shifting it to rest more comfortably on Sapnap’s shoulder. “You can always have a hug, dude, you don’t have to ask.” Sapnap murmured and George nodded again, for lack of a better response.</p>
<p>Sapnap had then continued to hold him, hands brushing circling patterns over his back, until George had the composure to pull himself away. The itch still crawled beneath his skin but it no longer charred his lungs, keeping his breath hostage, and George was endlessly grateful for that. </p>
<p>He needn’t say the words for Sapnap to know his thankfulness though because, for as much as George faulted himself for his lack of conventional communication, his friends had learnt better than any how to read him. And that’s why, as he turned back to the counter and picked up his glass, Sapnap smiled over at George with a knowing glint in his eye.</p>
<p>“You should go see Dream too, he’ll get jealous if he finds out I got a Gogy hug and he didn’t.” It was more of an affirmation than a suggestion or joke. He’d seen the longing heart which George cradled delicately in trembling palms, covered it in a soft sheet of safety and told George to follow its thrum. </p>
<p>With his point across, Sapnap carded a hand through George’s hair and ruffled it, politely turning a blind eye to the way George’s lashes stuttered and head tilted, before brushing past him to return to, likely, some overdue homework. And George, with his excuse established lightly, turned to follow his heart down the hallway.</p>
<p>He knocked quietly on the door, not entirely unaware of the possibility that Dream may be asleep at such an hour but not surprised in the slightest at the instant response he received. The words he’d rested ready in the back of his throat retreated as he pushed the door open, taking in the way Dream sat up against his headboard with his laptop rested on his thighs.</p>
<p>“Hi.” The word was soft and warm and matched prettily with the subconscious smile that pulled at Dream’s lips. It was such a small word, a menial greeting, and yet George felt it crash through him.</p>
<p>“Hey.” Dream shifted the laptop from his lap, giving George his full attention and George briefly entertained the idea of Dream really being alike to a dog. </p>
<p>“What’s up?” Only then did George notice he was still stood awkwardly in the doorway, hand rested on the doorknob as though he were ready to leave at any moment. He removed his hand from the door and alternatively wrapped it defensively around himself, still staying at the threshold. “You can come in.” Dream teased lightly and George stepped tentatively forward until he could perch on the chair left at Dream’s desk.</p>
<p>George mulled possibly a thousand synonyms over in his head, the words blurring and melding and never quite right for what he wanted - needed - to say, before deciding on a simple and familiar sentence.</p>
<p>“Can I-”</p>
<p>“Are you-”</p>
<p>Their voices overlapped and George found himself looking up and over into all too familiar eyes. Dream laughed, low and breathy and George wondered what he was so very utterly terrified of. </p>
<p>“Sorry, you go.” Dream murmured.</p>
<p>“Can I have a hug?” George replied.</p>
<p>Dream stared, a little wide-eyed and a little shell-shocked, before nodding and opening his arms. George was rather awkward in crawling onto Dream’s bed beside him, too long limbs not entirely supporting himself properly, but Dream surely didn’t mind when George finally settled on his knees beside him and wrapped his arms around Dream’s chest.</p>
<p>It was hardly a secret that the vast difference in height between Dream and George was a lingering theme in Dream’s mind but right now, like this, Dream couldn’t tear himself away from just how very small George seemed in comparison. He was so utterly focused on the way that his hand span almost covered the entirety of the small of George’s back when he spread his fingers that he almost didn’t notice the way George shook and the way his chest rose and fell in uneven bouts.</p>
<p>“Hey, George,” Dream attempted to pull back to catch George’s attention and ask what the matter was but George shook his head clumsily, moving his arms up over Dream’s shoulders and pushing himself closer bodily. Dream shifted his arms down to encircle George’s waist, holding him securely, and George let out a pitiful whine. He tried to bring himself exponentially closer, knees pressing against Dream’s thigh.</p>
<p>Dream shushed him, worry twisting at his tongue. “You’re okay, I’ve got you.” He soothed. George could hear the strain and interpreted it in a way misconstrued, loosening his arms. Dream waited, patient and warm, until George pried himself away.</p>
<p>“Are you alright?” He then asked, taking in ruddy cheeks and puffy eyes. George figured he was in deep anyways, lungs brimmed with murky water, and chose to plunge further.</p>
<p>“Touch starved,” He answered in a breathless rasp, the two measly words that had been terrorising him for oh so long. “I want- I need-”</p>
<p>“It’s okay.” Dream quieted him gently. “Come here.” He then followed, pushing the covers down from over his short-clad legs and carefully nudged George’s hips until George guided a tentative leg over in order to sit more comfortably in Dream’s lap. </p>
<p>Dream slowly took George’s hands and let them wrap over his own as much as they could before asking “Where?”</p>
<p>George hesitated, arms a hollow and airy shell, before pulling Dream’s hands to rest over each side of his waist. Dream noticed the full bodied shudder that wracked George’s frame and the way in which his brows had knit painfully together with a soft sense of sorrow. How long had George needed this for?</p>
<p>“Just… hold.” George whispered. “Please.”</p>
<p>His skin sang sonnets of praise at the contact as Dream gently squeezed his waist. He kept his hands over Dream’s own, tracing over a network of veins and down to the tips of his fingers before returning. Shame, embarrassment and a sour shade of humiliation were washed away with the slow drag of Dream’s thumbs.</p>
<p>George slowly skimmed his hands up Dream’s arms to rest upon his chest, dropping to press his forehead to Dream’s collarbone. Dream took the chance to slowly, firmly rub his hands up either of George’s sides. As George began to settle, breathing ragged but deep, Dream let the trails of his hands expand.</p>
<p>He felt his way up George’s sides, over his shoulders and down his arms; back up his arms and down the stretch of his back to end at his hips before repeating the pattern. The touch was slow and chaste and warm, soothing the wretched scorch beneath George’s skin and in his heart down to the shadow of a memory with each repetition. Dream then let one hand break routine, drifting up into George’s hair. He calmed George’s shivers with his other hand, continuing to ghost neat nails through in irregular, swirling patterns.</p>
<p>George hadn’t realised the entirety of the effect the contact had had on him until the fabric beneath his face had turned damp and his fists were so tight in Dream’s shirt that his knuckles had turned white. Dream never minded though, content to keep gliding one hand over George rhythmically and allow fingers of the other to trace down over the shell of George’s ear, down the curve of his neck before returning to his hair again.</p>
<p>It seemed an age, a lifetime perhaps, before George pushed himself back weakly to look Dream in the eye again. Dream let his hands drop to cup George’s hips idly as he waited for George to gather the words he was reaching for. He occupied himself instead in counting the soft red blemishes that now dotted George’s flushed face.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry.” George finally decided, reaching to wipe tired eyes and Dream simply smiled.</p>
<p>“Don’t be.” He replied, delicately brushing George’s hair across his forehead before cupping his cheek. He let his thumb brush absently beneath George’s eye and watched, mesmerised, as George leant into his hand and reached both of his own to encircle Dream forearm.</p>
<p>“I thought I’d be fine, that it would just go away but..” George needn’t finish his sentence for Dream to understand. “Then I thought it would be okay when I got here because you two seemed so… touchy. But you’re not.”</p>
<p>“We were.” Dream softly squeezed George’s hips. “When we first moved in we were so clingy. But it faded as we got used to living together.”</p>
<p>George nodded to himself. It was no one's fault and yet George found himself awfully bitter that he couldn’t have been there for that. But he’d be okay, he’d gotten it out of his system now and he’d accept that his friends simply aren’t tactile people.</p>
<p>“I never considered you might need that too, I thought you’d get annoyed by it. You’re not the touchy type, George.” George winced and hoped Dream didn’t notice. “We didn’t think you were the touchy type.” Dream corrected quietly.</p>
<p>“I like hugs.” George mumbled pitifully and near immediately regretted it. He sounded like a petulant child, he was supposed to be a grown adult for God’s sake.</p>
<p>“I like hugs too.” Dream replied softly, tone affirming. He let his thumbs slip beneath George’s shirt to trace the curve of his hip bones jutting from his shorts. “Especially yours.” George let his hand thump lightly to Dream’s chest and rest there as the man chuckled, revelling in the rumble.</p>
<p>The agreement was wordless as George resettled himself against Dream and Dream reshuffled the both of them to be lying comfortably. He then pulled the cover back up over them both, tucking it neatly around George’s shoulders and up under his chin. </p>
<p>And as Dream switched off the bedside lamp, pressing a lingering kiss to the crown of George’s head in the darkness, George felt his world sigh a soft-set relief, safe and right.</p>
<p>If the three became more tactile, ruffling George’s hair as he sat and always leaving an arm open on the couch, then no one mentioned it.</p>
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